Where the Roots End
by theWriterunknown
Summary: Van Kleiss's clone does what he's told. He listens to his elder, he trains hard so he can restore greatness to Abysus and bring back the Age of EVOS, and he keeps his eyes and ears away from those who would tell lies about The Pack and its history. Until Kleiss kidnaps a snot-nosed brat's family, that is- and Mr. Obediant Clone has to reevaluate his goals.
1. A Very Boring Beginning

**Author's Note:**

**I do not own Generator Rex.**

* * *

Van Kleiss's clone woke to existence on a brisk February day. Like most first birthdays, he was nameless and naked.

The clone noticed the cold first. It caused him quite a shock— to not exist, and then to suddenly _be_ an exposed, shivering thing in the bright light. He tried to scream. It is a natural first instinct, to cry out like newborn children tend to do. It is the vocalization of need, of surprise. All he could manage though was a strangled yelp.

He jerked against the _IVs—_ the _drips—_ the _tubes_ stuck to his body. There was a plastic snake at his nose, metal wire-worms tapped to his chest and a needle at his wrist. The table against his back felt hard and cold.

A word popped into the clone's brain:

_Metal. _

He pondered at it. Chewed up its meaning. Language was like a river flowing through his brain— quick, frothy, babbling.

The light above, the light bulb, the _lamp—_ brightly burned his eyes.

In the light, the clone noticed a man standing over him, staring down.

The man said: "Hello, clone. Welcome to the world. My name is Van Kleiss."

The clone blinked at the pale, aging face above him. The man...Van Kleiss, towered over the clone like a monolith, despite his salt-and-pepper hair, his patronly wrinkles, the gentle smile on his face.

The clone thought he should try to speak to this man, Kleiss. The word _hello _popped into his brain and would not let go.

"H— hh— ha—" the clone strained, his breath tight in his throat. "...H_-_hello."

Van Kleiss's face grew dimples at the mouth corners, and he threw back his head and laughed.

The clone watched, transfixed by the sight and sound. He couldn't understand why the man was laughing, but he enjoyed the expression. It made him happy.

Van Kleiss stopped laughing soon and looked down at the clone. "So eager to chat." He said, "you lot usually don't make so much as a sound for at least a week, but you must be special. Well, hello, hello…" he waved, then made a thoughtful click of his tongue.

"No problems with sight and hearing, then. Let's see if you can feel pain…" The man Kleiss raised his right hand, and the clone examined it with large eyes.

Van Kleiss's right hand was completely made of golden, shiny metal. The tips of his fingers had large round holes in them— and with a sharp _click, _needles emerged from the holes. The needles looked medical-like as if used for administering medicine or extracting blood.

Van Kleiss gently took the clone's right arm, which was pale, skinny and made of flesh— before he jabbed the needle of his forefinger into the clone's palm.

The clone winced and tried to snatch his hand back from Van Kleiss.

"I know," Kleiss said apologetically, "pain is terrible, but be glad you have it. You may hate the pain, but it tells you what's wrong with your body. It tells you what to stay away from. Without it, you won't know what to be afraid of."

Van Kleiss took his needle out of the clone's palm. With another click, all of his needles retracted to a mysterious place inside his metal arm.

The clone opened and closed his hand with a pang. He didn't care for the lesson he'd just been taught, he never wanted to feel pain ever again… it was...well, he couldn't find a word for it. _Bad_.

"I'm going to unplug you from all these monitors so you can stand up, alright?" Van Kleiss tapped his metal hand against a strange machine near the clone's head. It looked like a…

_TV. _The word popped into the clone's brain.

_Computer._

The clone blinked, watching Van Kleiss, his movements and his face. He noted the man's reddish-brown eyes. His shoulder-length hair. Despite the fact that Kleiss had hurt him, the clone found himself comforted by the shape of his face. Something about Kleiss's pointed nose, hard jaw, and the like made him feel as if he had known the man for years and years.

Van Kleiss began taking some of the plastic tubes and wire-worms out and off of the clone's body. After a needle connected to some sort of drip was removed from the clone's wrist did Kleiss usher for the clone to sit up.

The clone did, feeling his muscles ache in his belly and arms. His head swam.

"That's it, up, up, up…" Kleiss encouraged.

The clone did not want to stand up. He wanted to lie on the metal table until his head stopped spinning— but he also wanted to listen to the nice man, to make him happy. The clone slid off the table until his feet touched the ground. He stood upright—

The clone almost immediately lost his balance and watched the floor come to greet his face.

Van Kleiss laughed heartily again, his voice raspy. "That's alright clone, take your time."

The clone puffed air out of his nose, his eyes tearing up. Pain was in his life again, and it was still _bad. _He scrambled to push himself off the tiled floor. When he stood again, he wobbled and braced himself against the table.

"And you're up!" Kleiss smiled and nodded.

The clone mimicked the action of nodding, which caused Kleiss to laugh even more. This confused but delighted the clone.

The clone finally got a good look at where he was.

A word popped into the clone's brain:

_Kitchen._

It was a weird...kitchen. The ceiling was made up of shiny, brown wood. There were no windows. There were counters full of strange viles, tools, and beakers, but also stovetops and tall, man-sized fridges, with a sink against a wall. There even was a dishwasher next to the sink. The checkered floor stretched unassumingly underneath his feet.

A diagram of a naked man hung on the wall, his muscles and veins labeled with odd symbols.

"This is where I cloned you." Van Kleiss said. "Here." Van Kleiss turned and took a pile of clothes that were neatly folded on the table behind him. "Put this on. I can imagine you're cold, yes?"

The clone looked at the clothes, blinked, and took them from Kleiss. The clone carefully unfolded them on the table he'd woken on. He now had a plain white t-shirt, some pants, some socks, shoes, and underclothes.

"When you're done, follow me outside." Van Kleiss nodded again, and the clone copied him. Kleiss chuckled and left the kitchen, moving to a doorway at the far end of the room.

Once alone, the clone began to slowly dress himself. The instructions for dressing rang in his mind on their own volition- _put your foot there, pull that up, make sure it's not backward. _Other than that, the actions felt intuitive.

He kept his left hand braced on the table, and started with his underclothes and pants. He slipped his shoes on next. When he finally put on his white shirt, he struggled to put his head all the way through, and nearly tripped again. He squeezed the side of the table to stay upright.

Shirt on, he looked and realized he'd created a dent in the metal table from digging his fingers into it.

The hand-shaped dent startled him. He examined his left hand. His hand and arm were made of gold, shiny metal, just like Van Kleiss's.

The clone wondered if he could summon needles from his fingertips too.

He heard Van Kleiss's voice from the other room: "Are you _done _yet?"

The clone remembered he was supposed to follow Kleiss into the next room and wobbled on uncertain feet towards the doorway.

###

"I want you to see something, clone." Van Kleiss said when the clone caught up with him.

They stood in a hallway with many doors and no windows, which led out of the 'kitchen'. The hallway was paneled with glossy wood.

The clone nodded at the man Kleiss.

"Look at you, nodding this way and that. You learn quickly, don't you?" Kleiss smiled, his smile lines becoming defined.

The clone nodded. He guessed that nodding made Kleiss happy- he wanted him to be happy.

Kleiss's smile dropped. "Well, you still have much to learn. It'll take a while for you to get used to speaking."

The clone nodded...

"Follow me." Van Kleiss directed. "We don't have much time." He started walking down the long hallway at a brisk pace, and the clone nearly tumbled over his own feet trying to keep up.

After many perilous twists and turns that led the clone down a curious set of rooms and hallways did they stop in front of a pair of red double-doors. The clone had only tripped and stumbled once as he followed Kleiss, so he felt proud of himself at the end of their journey.

"This is my favorite part." Van Kleiss told the clone, and the clone nodded even though he didn't understand.

Kleiss pushed the double-doors open, and the clone had to shield his eyes as intense light flooded his vision. A chilly gust of wind made him shiver.

"Come forward, you'll be alright," Kleiss said, giving a cursory push to the clone's shoulder.

The clone stepped blindly forward, just as he was told.

"Look." Kleiss said.

The clone opened his eyes fully, his pupils adjusting to the light. He saw the colorful ceiling yawn impossibly wide above him, growing infinitely big.

A word popped into his head: _sky._

The building behind him was built on a steep cliff that overlooked a large pool of water, which stretched for miles and seemed to touch the sky. Kleiss and the clone stood at a rocky pavilion overlooking the blue water.

A word popped into his head: _ocean._

A bright orange light illuminated the horizon as if it set the ocean ablaze. The sky was blue and pink and yellow all at the same time, growing brighter near the sun at the horizon and growing dark and deep as he looked all the way up till his neck hurt. The light of the disappearing sun broke through the strange white fluffs that floated all around in the nothingness.

A word popped into his head: _sunset._

The clone swallowed hard, transfixed. He stood still and wide-eyed. Despite the cold weather, he felt rather warm, like the waves could drift him to sleep.

And then there were no more words popping into his head.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Van Kleiss said. "I always wake up clones at a clear sunset. It's amazing- I can build a fully functioning adult with _my _face and _my _powers. I can give him words with meanings and images to go with them, I can give him the ability to read, write and even think independently. And I have. But I've never been able to put a sunset into a clone's brain before. I can't tell a clone's brain what color is or what pain feels like unless they have the ability to see and feel it. Strange, I think."

The clone slowly nodded at Kleiss, even though he didn't quite understand what he meant. _'Build' an adult? 'Give' words to him?_

Van Kleiss stared at the clone with an expression the clone didn't have a word for. "I wish I knew what was going through your head." He frowned. "At the exact moment you see a sunset for the first time. I'd give everything to know what's in that mind of yours." He sighed, his breath long and wistful. "I can build a brain from scratch, but I've never been able to figure it out."

The clone nodded, still completely at a loss. He wanted to put a smile back on Van Kleiss's face, though. He didn't like seeing him frowning. The clone moved in for a hug, wrapping his arms around the man's shoulders.

Van Kleiss quirked an eyebrow and pushed the clone off. "Um…" He said, definitely not smiling. "No. No hugging."

The clone cocked his head and frowned. For some reason, pain ached in his chest without anything physically hurting him. He couldn't understand that, either.


	2. Salazar's Family Values

**Author's Note:**

**Well, I've made it to the** **second chapter and don't plan on slowing down anytime soon. I hope to keep that up. This chapter's going to be a longer one, so buckle your seatbelts and enjoy the ride.**

**I just want to pause here and give a special thanks to those that commented on the first chapter- YellowAngela and** **Silvanna Nightlight. Generator Rex doesn't have a lot of fans crawling around the internet as compared to other pieces of media, but I'm glad for the ones that we have. I also want to thank the silent readers who may see this- hope you're enjoying what I got so far.**

**Another special thanks to YellowAngela, just for being one of the people that keeps the flame going on this niche corner of the internet, and for being a very supportive person in general.**

**I do not own Generator Rex.**

**Trigger Warning for this chapter: brief mention of suicide statistics.**

* * *

Rex Salazar's neighborhood was as uniform as a soldier's mandated chrome chestplate. It sat as a cookie-cutter village in the lone Arizonian desert, most buildings two stories high with large windows running up the walls. Each structure sported a silhouette reminiscent of tall slabs of tofu, a look that would make any minimalist architect beam with pride. Solar panels made each roof shine blue.

Sunrise crested over the houses, spilling orange light into Rex's bedroom. His wife, Circe, liked to keep some of the shutters on the window-wall open so she could see the stars at night and sunlight during the day. Rex opened his eyes to see her- a mass of long black hair spun in a wicked bedhead from a night's sleep. Smudged mascara darkened the space under Circe's eyes from forgetting to take her makeup off before bed. Rex scooted close so he can put his arms around her shoulders.

He nudged his forehead against Circe's and closed his eyes. He listened to the sound of her slow, rhythmic breathing as if it could wash over him and erase all the things he had to do that day. All the guilt.

Rex felt Circe stir awake. Her head turned side to side languidly, before she scooted down so she could rest her head on his chest.

"Good morning." She yawned. He could smell that she needed to brush her teeth, and he guessed that his morning breath was doing no better.

"Good mornin'." Rex said, giving her a squeeze.

They laid there quietly for a moment, until Circe broke the silence.

"_Isn't_ it a big day today?" Circe looked up at his face, her reddish-brown eyes implying that they should probably get up. "We got to get ready for it."

"Maybe if we lay here for the rest of eternity, no one will notice?" Rex said with a hopeful lightness in his voice.

Circe thoughtfully clicked her lips together as if she was considering the idea. "Hmmm..."

"We can stay here for five more minutes." Rex put a hand on her head and ran it slowly down the top of her hair.

Circe sighed, laying her head back down on his chest. "You make quite the convincing argument. Five more minutes."

In actuality, it was only three minutes before a child broke through their door and careened into their room like a gremlin creature.

The gremlin creature, an unstoppable force made up of perpetually tangled, long black hair and superhero pajamas, dashed with loud, bare feet to the side of her parent's bed. She began shaking Rex with the veracity of an earthquake (who opted to pretend to be asleep as soon as she made her entrance.)

The gremlin was either not convinced of his act, or didn't care one way or the other about his state of consciousness. "Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad, Dad, _Dad_." She said with each excited shake of his shoulder.

Rex pretended to open his eyes groggily, as if for the first time, and yawned like he'd been asleep for a hundred years. He wrapped his arms around his daughter. "Yes? This is dad speaking."

"You promised to go riding out with me today by the canyon." She said, almost accusing him of a slight against her, seeing as he wasn't even _dressed _for it.

"I promised that, huh?" Rex said, looking over to his wife, who had a large smile on her face.

Their daughter, Violetta, nodded her head with a serious look in her eye. "Yes. And you said I could ride _my _bike this time."

At that, Rex's smile faltered. Violeta usually rode on the back of his hoverbike, one he'd conjure up with his powers, while _he_ drove. Violeta never rode her hoverbike during their desert drives. Without him, what would stop his steadfast daughter from crashing into a raveen?

Violeta conjuring up a hoverbike to do a slow lap around the Petting Zoo at Providence Base under the watchful eye of him and a team of scientists was one thing...but for her to ride alongside him around Rookie Canyon? She was only eleven. She could get hurt.

"I don't know about that, Vi. You haven't ridden around the desert before." Rex looked at Circe for confirmation. He hoped his wife had a better gauge of what was too dangerous and what wasn't, seeing as his was a bit stunted from a youth spent as a heroic daredevil.

Circe only shrugged though. "If she goes slow, I don't see the problem with it. She's been able to make a bike since she was five."

Rex sighed. "Well…"

"I promise I'll be careful!" Violeta said, back straight in a military posture. "Serious! I'm the most careful driver I can think of."

Rex rubbed his eyes and made an unconvinced groan.

"You _said_ I could." Violeta said.

"When did I do that?" Rex set his jaw on his hand.

"Yeah, when did you do that?" Circe addressed Rex with a quirk of her eyebrow. "Mister '_I-Don't-Know-About-That_ over here."

"Hey. When has my memory ever been good?" Rex said, playfully batting a hand over at her.

"The day before yesterday I asked dad if I could ride my own bike around Rookie Canyon," Violeta pointed an accusing finger at her dad. "and _you_ said 'probably on Friday'." She then clasped her hands together as if she thought her argument was bulletproof. That was Violeta— she had the spirit of a particularly stubborn lawyer when she had her mind made up.

Rex laughed. "Key word is _probably, mi hija_. I didn't promise anything."

Violeta deflated, her shoulders sagging with the weight of a daughter's disappointment. Rex could feel his heart budge slightly at the performance.

"I promise I'll be careful. Like, so careful. I won't even think about doing a donut. I'll just ride forward." She batted her eyelashes for added effect. It seemed like today she was really laying it on thick.

Rex knew that she wasn't going to leave without a satisfactory answer. He smiled airily. "Okay, okay. I'll think about it. But only after breakfast. I do have to present the Providence Medal of Valor this evening, or your uncle Six will bust my a— ah... my favorite vase. He'll bust my favorite vase. Figuratively."

Circe snorted.

This answer didn't seem to satisfy Violeta, but it wasn't a cause for devastation either. "Okay…" Violeta said, turning to leave.

Before she could though, Circe pointed up to the ceiling and announced that she did not get her morning hug. Violeta ran up to mom's side of the bed and gave her a quick squeeze.

-o-

It was Rex's turn to cook breakfast, which he was relieved about— Violeta wasn't allowed to badger him while he was in the kitchen, just as she wasn't allowed to badger mom whenever she's in there, either.

Circe sat at the kitchen table, light streaming in on her bed-head and black nightgown, looking like a goth queen despite her disarray. She drank a cup of coffee slowly, while their seven year old son- Raphael- sat beside her with a mighty cowlick on his head. Violeta preferred to sit crisscross on the floor, impatiently trying to figure out a rubix cube, mumbling PG curses to herself.

The two kids were opposites from just looking at their little quirks— Raphael sat in his chair in quiet contemplation that seemed beyond his years, while Violeta needed to be distracted by the next big conquest.

Raphael was sorting a motley crew of markers in order of shade, thinking hard over a blank sheet of paper by the severe look on his face. He looked like a tiny version of Rex- a bright little boy with spiky black hair and dark bronze skin. His eyes had that same slender almond shape, too. One of the things that was noticeably Circe about him was he had his mother's eye color— brown, almost red, like a vampire from a movie screen.

Violeta was the opposite. She looked like her mom— had her mom's slender nose, same angular face-shape. She had a darker eye-color though, one that looked just like Rex's— so brown they were nearly black as stones. Violeta had more melanin in her skin than Circe too, courtesy of Rex's side.

The holo-TV fizzed to life in the corner of the room. Rex usually put the hologram on while he cooked. The images from the TV floated with a blue glow in mid-air, and the news droned along with the sound of sizzling bacon...

"Hello, I'm Dianne Farrah with _Ultimate Exposure, _here as we celebrate Providence Veteran's day fourteen years after the world-wide curing event…"

Circe let out a huff of a sigh from the table. "Why's Ultimate Exposure on? You _know_ Dianne Farrah's crazy."

"Yeah." Rex said in agreement, a _kiss the cook _apron around his waist. He knew that his wife hated _Ultimate Exposure _for being so easily duped into supporting the muscle-control collars forced upon EVOs all those years ago. "She's insane. But I have to keep up with it. It's where most of the rumors about Providence begin to spread, bad news or not."

"She tried to climb over the backyard fence so she could get an interview with you." Circe said in a low, flat tone— and Rex wanted to laugh at the memory. Their neighbor's dog had started to chase the camera man, and Diane's skirt had gotten caught on their fence.

"_And _crazy people on TV amuse me." Rex shrugged with a sly grin on his face, spatula still in hand. "She's like… a train crash. You can't look away."

"That news lady said my nose looked weird." Raphael pointed to his nose, speaking softly. He wasn't a morning child. "That's what _I _saw on the TV once. She said it looked too big."

"What?" Circe said, putting her coffee down with a jolt. "When did she say that?"

Raphael titled his little head to the side and thought. "On the TV...I think... in one of those interviews."

"I remember that." Rex said, turning just a bit so he could face his family. "She said it like this," and then Rex mimicked Diane Farrah's voice by making it whiny and high-pitched. "_that child of Rex's sure has a big snout for such a tiny guy."_

Violeta snorted at his impression.

"_Really_. What a jerk. Wouldn't know a small nose from a big one if it killed her." Circe scrunched up her own nose. "Raphael, I think you have the cutest nose I ever saw, and you're one of the most beautiful people I've ever known. Don't let anyone tell you different. Next time lil' miss news tries that crap, she'll have to go through me." She punctuated this by reaching over to tussle his hair. Raphael tried to bat her hand away. "Know why she shouldn't have said it?" She asked.

"We don't make rude comments about somebody's appearance." Raphael droned automatically. "Even if they're ugly."

A hint of a smile appeared on Circe's face, like she was trying not to laugh at Raphael's addition to the lesson. "Except no one's ugly, as long as they're nice on the inside- right?"

Raphael shrugged. "Yeah." He said blandly. "I guess."

Rex burst out laughing, not bothering to smother it. "Yeah. I guess." He echoed.

Diane Farrah's voice still rang through their home: "...activists like Annette Han are using this day to bring awareness to the trials of veteran life. Providence Veteran's day comes at a bitter-sweet time for many as the suicide rate among veterans is still disproportionately high. A question hovers over all of us this year: where are the resources for those that fought for us bravely during the six-year EVO outbreak? I now take you to a live..."

Rex turned the holo TV off. "You're right. That's enough of that." Smile gone, he wordlessly went back to cooking.

Still, _Ultimate Exposur_e wasn't the problem. It was the fact that they hit the nail on the head, for once. Maybe they were trying to be on their best behavior on Providence Veteran's Day.

Circe looked over her cup, and aside from the two energetic children with them, the kitchen became silent and sober.

Rex soon had a breakfast of bacon and huevos rancheros ready. Plates and forks were sent around with a clatter, and the warm smell of food lifted into the air.

"So how 'bout that canyon ride, huh? Let's go right after breakfast. I think it's time you've tried it on your own bike." Rex said once the meal had begun in earnest.

Violeta's eyes lit up.

Raphael shuddered at the idea. "Hover rides are too scary."

"You always say that," Violeta said, outwardly offended that her favorite pastime could be anything but praised. "But every time you ride on Dad's bike you're always like 'that wasn't so bad' and 'I think biking's actually fun'. You sir, are a _hypocrite_."

Raphael rose to the bait. His rebuttal was as timeless as the existence of siblings itself. "Am not."

And Violeta's response was another known classic in the ongoing sibling dialogue. "Are to."

"Am not."

"Are to."

"Am not."

"Are _to_."

"Am not!"

"_Kids_." Circe warned. "I don't want to hear it this morning. Don't make me do something you'll regret. Like getting _involved._"

Raphael frowned. "But-"

"Nope." Circe put her hand down on the table as if _that_ was the end of _that._ Her fingernails were painted midnight black. "I haven't finished my coffee. No arguing."

Rex smiled. "Listen to your mother. Keep her happy." He nudged Raphael like they were co-conspirators. "_Trust me_. It's better for all of us that way."

-o-

The flat, hard-baked land gave way to desert bluffs that rose up like giants. A raveen ran deep into the earth as if one of those giants had taken a mile-long slice out of the ground— a neat and layered cake-piece. Orange and dry, Rookie Canyon had its own sort of mute splendor. The sky was a perfect robin's egg blue.

Violeta tightened the chin strap on her helmet. Rex moved to help her adjust her pink goggles too, but she put her foot down and said she could do it herself. She was _eleven, _after all.

Rex frowned and considered the already-bright sky. "Let's put some more sunscreen on your face." He decided.

"Pretty sure I got everything." Violeta said, her young face twisting into a scowl that oddly reminded him of her uncle Six.

"Hmm…nah. Let's add more." Rex was already placing a tiny dollop of zinc and _SPF-70_ on his hand. "The desert sun is not something to mess around with."

"_Dad_." Violeta started, Rex painted sunscreen on her nose anyway. She raised her hands up. "I'm going to look stupid by the time you're done!"

"You look fine." Rex said, a defensive tilt to his voice. He was still holding up the bottle of sunscreen, as if not sure whether he was done.

Violeta cracked a belligerent smile. "Serious. I think we got all of it. I promise."

Rex finally stood down, gazing at the oily sheen he had added to her face. "Okay fine. I'm just making sure you don't get burned."

"I won't." Violeta rolled her eyes. Circe didn't like it when their daughter did that, but Rex couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship of her eye roll. She could practically roll her eyes back into her head as if possessed by a demon.

Rex moved his goggles from the top of his head to his eyes. "Well then, _mi_ _hija, _let's get started."

Violeta's mouth formed a toothy smile. She moved her goggles over her eyes just as Rex had done.

In a flash, blue lines appeared throughout her body. The nanites flowing through her revved up until a machine grew out of her lower legs. An orange hover motorbike appeared as an extension of herself. Violeta revved the engine on the bike she had just created.

Before Rex could match her by creating a hoverbike with his powers, she sped off so fast she left a cloud of dust in her wake. Rex coughed at the taste of sandy gravel.

Rex's eyebrows shot up once he got his bearings, and he transformed his hoverbike. "Violeta! Slow down!"

He could hear his daughter's wild laughter in the wind, and knew that slowing down wasn't going to be the case.

Rex's lips formed a thin line and he shot forward so he could fall into step with Violeta's pace.

It seemed Violeta's master plan was to race him all throughout the canyon.

This was something Rex would've done when he was younger, he supposed. He remembered his illicit flights and rides that took him from Providence Base and out into the desert all alone, where the wind stole all his breath. He remembered running away so he could explore cities and towns with his old pal and chimp sidekick Bobo. All the mischief they got into.

Violeta didn't fall far from the tree. For some reason, that made his heart beat faster than the race did. Violeta _shouldn't _be like Rex. She should be…

Safe.

Rex was side-by-side with his daughter now, the wind whipping both of them. He was glad he'd given her goggles, or the wind would've had her eyelids flapping open comically.

"Violeta!" He called over the din. "Slow down this instant!" Rex hated losing part of his cool dad demeanor (and the _this instant_ line was sure to put a nail on the coffin of that.) but his head was full of visions of her bike breaking apart or losing control.

"Why?" Violeta's small voice rang like a thunderclap in the wind. He heard the annoyance in her tone.

"What do you mean why?! We agreed you would go slow!" Rex felt his hackles rise an iota. He didn't normally get mad at his kids, but when he did it was over stuff like this.

"But you got to do all kinds of dangerous stuff when you were a kid! Why don't you think _I can?!_" Violeta's bike hummed into a loud, electronic rumble as she sped up all the more.

Rex grumbled a non-PG curse under his breath that was soft enough to be taken by the wind.

_Because you're my daughter. _He wanted to say. _And you still have a childhood you need to finish, for one thing._

They raced through the desert while Rex hoped that she would soon listen to his orders. Sometimes she would slow down, which would make Rex do the same, only to speed up again— as if she was playing with him. Rex wanted her to know that he _wasn't_ playing.

Soon they both zoomed into a tall ravine, where the walls were made of thick, glistening minerals and the spare trickle of a river spun under them like babbling diamonds. The walls grew as tall as skyscrapers, and a narrow turn in the ravine appeared up ahead.

Violeta swerved to the side, twisting so she could try to turn without crumbling into a roll. For a second, her center of gravity dipped, making Rex's stomach clench.

Miraculously, she righted herself and turned with the grace of a fish darting through a clear pool.

With a start, Rex wondered if she'd done this before. _Without_ him.

Rex turned at the right moment, river water spraying against his face as he set himself close to the ground.

Once he got through with the turn, he saw Violeta zig zagging up ahead all throughout the ravine.

Rex had decided that he'd seen enough.

"_Violeta Salazar!_" He yelled in his _I'm-your-dad-and-you're-in-deep-trouble_ voice. "Stop your hoverbike, _now!_"

That was what finally got through to the girl, who had only heard that particular intonation of his voice on rare but harrowing occasions.

Her hoverbike's roar coughed into a dull grumble, and she slowed to a halt.

Rex's bike did the same, until he was once again side-by-side with her. Rex tore his goggles off his face.

"Kiddo." He said with a loud sigh, one that moved his shoulders up and down. "What were you thinking? When I say stop— you _stop_. We agreed that you were going to take it easy for this ride. What if you had gotten hurt?"

Violeta moved her goggles from her eyes and lifted her chin at him, but the fire in her eyes simmered when she saw his expression. She unwound her bike until the machine collapsed back into her legs and she was standing on her own two feet again. She stared at the desert floor, suddenly sheepish about what she'd done.

"I wasn't going to get hurt, dad." She said, not looking at him.

Rex frowned. He summoned his hoverbike back into his nanite-ridden body. He put his hands on his hips and stared down at his kid with exasperation. "You could have." He reminded her.

Violeta's head snapped up, part of her fire back. "I've done it before! I've ridden out into the desert super fast and I haven't gotten hurt yet."

Rex felt his scowl worsen. It wasn't hard to imagine—Violeta sneaking out into the cool desert while the stars hung in the sky like scores of fireflies, when the rest of her family slept. There's no telling what other kind of trouble she could've gotten up to, unsupervised. "Admitting to going behind my back isn't _exactly_ helping your case."

"You saw how good I was!" Violeta folded her arms across her small chest. "If I have the stuff to do it, then why can't I?"

Rex breathed in deeply and held the upper bridge of his nose as if that would single-handedly stop the migraine from coming on. "It doesn't matter if you're a freaking NASCAR racer! It's not up to you! It's my job to keep you safe! You're _my_ responsibility. And you're not bulletproof, mi hija—"

"_You _got to do all sorts of stuff when you were a kid! You told me about how you used to work with a crime boss when you were nearly my age! What's one fast ride through the desert?" Though Violeta's voice wasn't so confident near the end of her sentence, and she stared and the ground again.

Rex scrutinized her for a moment, not knowing what to say. Her attitude toward him stung. He chose his words carefully. "Vi...it's not a good thing that I was in that sort of situation. I would never give that sort of childhood to you or anyone else. I want you to lead a normal life. A safe one. It's not your place to compare my past to your present. You have no idea what it was like— it wasn't always _fun_ to be in danger. It wasn't always an adventure. I was scared a _lot_."

Violeta was quiet. "I'm sorry." She said finally.

"What if someone saw you use your powers while you've been going out without my permission?" Rex said. "I want people to leave you alone, Vi. I don't want people to treat you like you're just some EVO and nothing else— a weapon. Only your family and the doctors at Providence can know about what you can do until you're grown."

Violeta nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

Rex knelt in front of her. "We can talk about giving you more freedom to try new things with your powers, but you can't go behind my back. I want you to be able to talk about things like this. If you feel like I'm smothering you, we can compromise. Right now you just have to trust me, and I have to be able to trust you."

Violeta nodded, her face still gazing at the floor.

Rex cocked his head to the side so he could make eye contact with her. "I love you." He said.

Violeta looked at him. "I love you too."

Rex smiled and wrapped his arms around her.

"Also, you're _so _grounded."

"I know." Violeta said in a resigned voice.

"We're going home now." Rex released her from the hug. _I have to get ready to present a medal, anyway. _He thought with a pang of nervousness forming in his stomach.

Violeta stepped back and created her hoverbike again, only for Rex to put a hand on his hip.

"And what do you think you're doing?" He asked.

"Um." Violeta said, a confused but cautious look on her face. "Going home?"

"Nuh uh. Not like that. You're riding with _my_ bike, and then when we get home we're going to have to talk to your mother about this whole episode." His _you're-in-trouble_ dad-voice was back in full swing.

Violet groaned. Being grounded was one thing, but being chewed out by Circe was infamously unpleasant to all members of the Salazar family. At that, Rex felt a pang of sympathy for the girl.


	3. The Garden of Children

**Author's Note:**

**Thanks again for those that read the last chapter, especially YellowAngela for commenting.**

**I do not own Generator Rex.**

**Trigger warning for this chapter: Death mention, brief nondescriptive violence.**

* * *

The clone settled in soon enough. The strange world he'd opened his eyes to had become his home, one with mysteries, adventures and places to explore.

The clone lived on an _island_, and a tour of the building overlooking the water revealed many neat rooms and creatures. The building (what Van Kleiss called the _Castle_,) was at least five stories high, and used to be a college. In some rooms, there were still desks and chairs— but the most fascinating rooms of all were the library, the barracks, and the garden.

The library was more like a forest of shelves and books. The clone was acutely aware he could read, running his pale hand slowly over some book-spines.

_Don Quixote._ One spine told him.

_Pride and Prejudice. The Bell Jar. Beloved. Crime and Punishment._

The clone felt absolutely stimulated as he turned odd symbols into abstract meaning.

Reading felt familiar to him— Kleiss told him he'd programmed the clone's brain to be filled with words and meanings. Except this was a different phenomenon. Reading meant the clone had to parse language all on his own, like some invisible voice was trying to start a conversation with him. He was curious about books— but didn't dare take one off a shelf.

Van Kleiss noticed his interest.

"This is the classic section," Kleiss told him, not a drop of disapproval in his voice at the clone's open curiosity. "That means that these books—" he gestured to the set of shelves before him. "Have stories in them that people across time have found important. One reader could grow old and die, but a classic story pays no mind. A book is picked up and read by the next generation as if time has no meaning to it. True time travelers, books are." And Van Kleiss's smiled, his dimples showing.

The clone smiled back. A warmth filled his chest at the man Kleiss's kind explanation. He looked at the books with renewed curiosity, but also a respect that kept his hands firmly at his sides.

Van Kleiss surprised him, though. "Would you like to open one?" He asked.

The clone blinked. He felt embarrassed at the visible want he had shown towards books, in front of a man who had given him so much already. Life seemed to be such a wonderful place, after all- a gift given.

But not wanting to pass up the generous offer, the clone nodded, small and slow. He tried to speak. "Y-y...ehs." He coughed, trying to dislodge the tightness in his throat. "...Ye_s_."

Kleiss's smile brightened, dispelling any embarrassment the clone had felt.

"Learning to respond quite quickly, I see. Good, good. I have the perfect book recommendation." Kleiss said, swiping a pointing finger at the clone like they were two co-conspirators.

The clone nodded, his eyes watching.

Van Kleiss turned, started to leave, then his eyes went hazy like he was trying to remember something. "Let's see… it won't be in the shelves, I don't think. Where'd I put it?" Then his eyes brightened back up and he snapped his non-metal fingers. "I'll be back in a moment." He said.

The clone nodded at Kleiss, even though the man's retreating form couldn't see the action.

He read more spines while he waited. The smell of sweet, decaying wood pulp filled his nostrils. The library was three stories all told, the staircase to each level going down directly into the floor or up into the ceiling. He liked the way the stairs curved elegantly into the next floor, the metal railings polished silver and worn.

He stood on the second level, where empty tables populated a clearing in the shelves. A statue of a…

The clone blinked. He conjured up the word _astronaut_. A statue of an astronaut with a bulbous, glass helmet sat in the corner next to the library tables- the banner above the statue pronouncing in big letters:

_NASA'S 100TH ANNIVERSARY!_

And a display of space-related books sat exposed on a wide, open shelf.

The clone did not understand the shrine at all, but he knew the word space meant beyond Earth, his home, and that astronauts explored space. The shrine must be dedicated to the greatest astronaut of them all, a man named Nasa, who lived to be one hundred years old.

Soon, Van Kleiss returned. He held a worn book so small that it nearly disappeared inside his metal right-hand.

Kleiss offered the book to the clone, who took it gently, almost afraid to touch it.

The book was dog-eared, the pages yellow, the cover image nearly faded. The clone felt nervous holding such a thing in his book must've been passed down from generation to generation. A true classic, just as Kleiss had told him about.

The cover had a...girl-child on it. She had a serene face, and wild, orange-brown hair that was pulled into a ponytail. She draped her arms protectively over a pink pig, who starred off at a spider hanging on a thread.

_Charlotte's Web._ The title said, its letters caked in cobwebs.

"I know you were born an adult," Van Kleiss said. "But since you're not even a week old, I figured I'd start you off on something easy. I think you'll enjoy this book- it's for anyone. I like it. I used to read this all the time to…" He stopped.

The clone looked up at him.

"I think you'll enjoy this book," Kleiss repeated, scratching his temple. The clone couldn't decipher the troubled look on his face. "Its an adorable little tale." He smiled, trouble melting away. "I didn't much like the ending though."

The clone nodded. He felt curious and grateful at the same time, and wanted to hug Kleiss but knew better. "Th-th-th…" thank you he wanted to say. "Th-ang-ss." He felt his ears burn, aware Kleiss was watching him fail to say a simple word.

"I understand." Van Kiess nodded patiently. "You're welcome."

###

If the library was a lonely place for quiet contemplation, the barracks was its antichrist.

A sun-bleached stone courtyard led into the barracks.

The courtyard was surrounded by dormitories— brick buildings with windows— and also, a giant stone whale creature that had long-ago destroyed the western dormitory wing, leaving man-sized scraps of rubble in its wake. The stone whale now sat beached on top of the ruins as a building of its own.

It seemed like many of the residents lived inside the giant whale instead of the brick buildings. Creatures..._EVOs_ of different sizes, different teeth, different number of eyes milled about its jaws, sat on its dead lips or worked on strange technology under the shade of its fins.

The whale's many eyes had been turned into windows, and its flat head was a landing pad for EVOs with wings. The clone could see beds and piles of straw inside the whale's outermost mouth, where quite a few EVOs must sleep.

Sounds of roars, of bleats, of teeth clattering and tentacles slithering could be heard. Not-quite humanoid creatures carried plates or mops or the like across the courtyard to other parts of the _Castle_ like bees moving in and out of honeycombs. The smell of sweat and alien flesh mixed with salt carried on the wind from the ocean.

When the EVOs saw Kleiss and the clone, they all stood at attention like soldiers. Silence drifted down on the courtyard as if someone had snipped everyone's vocal cords.

Van Kleiss didn't need to raise his voice, nor did he bother giving a long speech. "Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to our newest addition to The Pack." He put his hand on the clone's shoulder. "You all know what he is already— so let's not bore over the details. Please make my clone feel at home." He smiled, wise and warm. "other than that, keep up the good work!"

The clone felt his face warm up as if the sun was lit inside his skin. He was painfully aware of the countless eyes on him.

With Kleiss's blessing though, the barracks went back to its loud hustle and bustle. Bows and nods were thrown their way.

"Clone." Van Kleiss said.

The clone looked up to show he was paying attention.

"These EVOs here are your family. We eat together, speak with each other, and live together despite our differences. You have to understand that this family is special. They will fight for you, live for you, and kill for you. We are here to bring peace to the world, and joy to all creatures. To all EVOs, like you and me—" he gestured to the courtyard. "And them. Our cause is one of compassion, but not without a cost. Kindness, family, and justice means you need to make sacrifices. Just as they will die for you, you need to be able to do the same for them. Remember this."

The clone nodded, his eyes gleaming. "Y-yes." He said, his tone serious.

Van Kleiss laughed, a marvelous sound. "I like your fire." He muttered.

The clone felt someone run a hand through his hair from behind.

Startled, he spun around to find a woman now standing face-to-face with him.

The humanoid— the EVO woman— was deathly pale, her skin the color of the bleached sandstone under their feet. Her black hair was so long that it nearly reached the floor. She wore a crisp white button-up tucked into a long, dark-blue skirt in which the hem reached just past her knees.

What was striking about the woman was her arms. Her arms were large, and her hands were larger, as if the god that made her put too much stuffing in them. Another, slender set of arms appeared out of the sides of her rib cage.

"So this is the new toy?" She asked, placing a large finger on his chest. Her face was long and mature, but mostly obscured by her hair. The one eye unobstructed by hair gleamed a deep, pupilless emerald.

The clone felt his heart begin to thunder in his chest.

Van Kleiss only seemed a bit annoyed. "Not your toy, Breach. This one's not for you."

"Oh… I wouldn't want him. His face is too _boring_." Her voice was light and had a certain sway to it, like it was a hollow gust of wind passing through tree branches. "But how shiny. Look at his eyes. I like his eyes."

The clone blinked. He felt his face begin to turn strawberry with heat. He held _Charlotte's Web_ tightly in his metal hand, as if it would keep him anchored in a sea of nervousness.

_"Did you see though_— he's skinny. Like a pencil… How long will this toy last?" Breach picked up the clone's non-metal hand with her large one. The clone's eyes went wide.

There was something unsettling about her, something...different. Like she was in a league all of her own, she radiated power and intent.

"Leave him alone, please." Kleiss said, a warning flash in his voice.

"I'm not bothering him. Aren't I?" Breach's eye slid to the clone's face.

Heart still beating fast in his chest, the clone shook his head slowly. He stared at her eye, her strange form and the flashes of white, flat teeth in her mouth. A new feeling sparked in his chest, not quite fear, but close to it.

Suddenly, words were forming in his head and making their way onto his tongue.

"Y-y-you're…" the clone tried.

...Neither Breach nor Kleiss interrupted him, only stared at him with interest. They both seemed surprised that he was trying to speak at all, let alone to Breach.

"—Y-you a-re" his heartbeat became even louder. "B-be-oot-iff-hull." He tried again. "Y-you-re b-beautiful."

Breach's eye went wide, and the one eyebrow he could see shot up. Then she laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

The clone didn't quite understand her reaction to his compliment but had the feeling he should be embarrassed.

"Dear _God."_ Kleiss said, rubbing his forehead irritably. A smirk crept onto his face, though.

"I changed my mind. I like him." Breach said through keels of laughter.

###

Last but not least, the garden. The garden lay underground, directly under the _Castle_. In order to get to it, Kleiss and the clone had to take a rickety elevator that smelled of old rainwater, down, down, down, down— until they were surely near the center of the Earth.

The garden's location confused the clone— shouldn't a garden be out in the open air, with the sun and bugs?

He didn't try to wrestle the question out of his mouth.

Still...the garden was a beautiful wide cavern.

The ceiling lights supplied fake sunlight to the plants, and wet, rich soil spread thickly underfoot. Cobblestone paths wound through the vegetables, the flowers, the fruit trees. It seemed there was every type of greenery magically growing around spare grey stalagmites.

And then there were the statues that stood in the flowerbeds.

They all looked like Van Kleiss— tall men with long hair, each left arm carved to look like bulky metal. Their faces were contorted in pain— mouths open in a still scream, eyes wide or shut tight.

The clone looked at Kleiss and waited for an explanation for the statues, for the garden.

Presently, he got none.

Van Kleiss was silent as they walked down a path shaded by tall leaves. The smell of pollen was sweet in the air here, and the only sound to be heard was the hum of electric lights above.

There was a large patch of daisies up ahead, growing in a secluded enclave between two willow trees.

Kleiss stopped in front of it. The clone did too.

Kleiss took his time before he spoke. He stood in front of the daisies, looking down. When he breathed, it was from the depths of his stomach, and when he finally talked, it was slow and heavy.

"I remember the first thing I had buried down here," Kleiss said.

The clone looked at him.

Kleiss looked old to him then, the lines on his face etched thickly, as if something had taken some of the life from his expression.

"My daughter was so small." Kleiss closed his eyes.

The clone's breathing went shallow. His eyes moved to the patch of daisies. The white buds stood frozen in time, with no breeze to sway them. A lump formed in his throat.

"She was too small." Van Kleiss said, now in a strange tone of voice. Like he was saying a cruel joke.

They stood in silence again. The clone wanted to say something— do something— anything to make Van Kleiss feel better. But he didn't know how, and then Kleiss broke the silence.

"I don't like to talk about my children. My heart has been broken too many times. See the statues?"

The clone didn't want to look at the statues. He'd already seen enough of their horrible faces. He nodded stiffly.

"Those are my clones. In a way, they are your brothers. I made them because without any of my children around...I need something. Desperately. To live. But." Kleiss turned slowly on his feet, his eyes moving over the garden like he was dressing everything in a shroud. "Each clone I make has been given a terrible sickness. The nanites inside their bodies are unstable, just as mine are. Unfortunately, they aren't as strong as I. _I_ can handle unstable nanites...but my clones just can't. Because of that, they don't live for very long. Patches of their flesh slowly begin to turn to stone until they are completely swallowed, and I know you see the results."

A coldness swept over the clone's body. He felt his eyes begin to warm with tears. He felt like the stone eyes of the other clones were watching him, watching him with pure agony.

"This will happen to you one day. I'm sorry." Kleiss finished.

The clone stood as still as the motionless flowers, and as the statues. He began to shake.

When he thought about death—

The fear in the faces of his brothers—

The grief in Kleiss's voice, the tone that made him want to reach out and hug him—

The daisy patch—

He couldn't.

He began to cry.

Van Kleiss's voice was far away, calm in the storm. "I know that this hurts you, but do not be afraid. You will live a good life, I will be the one to see to it. I take care of all my children until the very end."

Tears were spilling down the clone's cheeks now, and his face felt red and blotchy. He sniffed. He held the sides of his head, trying not to let the monster of panic gobble him whole.

How could the man Kleiss deal with such a weighty reality without being crushed by it? How could he ever deserve the sheer amount of loss in his life?

What was death going to be like?

"Please don't cry, clone." Kleiss put a hand on the clone's shoulder, just as he had done when they toured the barracks only a short time ago. "I have ways to make you live longer, but it will hurt."

The clone looked up, a hopeful and scared feeling welling up inside. Life was so new, so wonderful, so full of interesting things. He couldn't imagine ceasing to exist. He just got here.

Kleiss gave him a reassuring smile. "It'll help me too. Every couple of days, I can take some of your unstable nanites so you can be...less sick. And with more nanites in me, I'll be more powerful. Doesn't that sound good?"

The clone nodded many times. He was so, so grateful to have someone like Kleiss around. Someone so strong and wise.

Kleiss cocked his head, staring at him. His red-brown eyes flashed. "It will hurt a lot. But remember what I told you about pain, clone." Kleiss held up his metal hand, and with a click long medical needles appeared from the tips of his fingers.

Suddenly, some of the trees around them became animated— their branches stretching and warping, becoming snakes that slithered down to the clone— wrapping around him— tying up his limbs—_Charlotte's Web_ fell from the clone's hand to the soft grass—

The clone was tangled in a low tree now, unable to move. He yelped. He couldn't form the words to speak— to ask Kleiss _why_—

"Don't agonize over pain. It means you're alive. It tells you what's wrong with yourself."

The man Kleiss raised his hand, as if poised to strike the clone. He had a gleam in his eye, a soft frown on his face. "So...everything will be okay." He said gently.

Van Kleiss stabbed all of the needles into the clone's chest—

The— the clone felt— felt like he was on fire—

_Fire_—

and then—

—

.

—

.


End file.
